Vast – Empty
Sky wide and lost
An ancient lakebed sleeps
Ghostly clouds wane and hide
Flattened – clay cooled night
This strange field of fright
The Lord of the Weeds
Wanders The Night Rule
With seeds and breeze
And dreams
And gleam
Shirtless and perfect
Tanned goat man
Running
Shunning
Smiling this dying
And wiping this crying
Chasing maidens through blades and hollow
While moon light glides bright
Filling my sky with forbaden
Luminous glow
Blue-black fright
And Skeleton white
This –
My ghostly glory
A haunting story
For in the hour of my power
Breeze blows
Thick witch – wet weeds
The sweet smell of hell
And deeds dark – drool
Winding wind – dusking this valley of sin
My words you heed
For I AM The Lord of The Weeds